


Sing While California Is Dreaming

by crashingskyline



Series: Five [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Oh Sehun, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Top Kim Jongin | Kai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crashingskyline/pseuds/crashingskyline
Summary: Sehun is silent and broken, and Kai doesn't know how to make it better.





	Sing While California Is Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> This drabblish oneshot thingy I pulled out of my head is strongly based on two songs. Listen to them while reading and enjoy this shameless smut.

[ Hollywood Undead - California Dreaming ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNSWLO_7lU4)

[ Hollywood Undead - Sing ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJiaaxMsifM&index=79&list=PLsiFbTU1f8FBAoJCLgU7Ss9g_EK_Dhn3r)

 

 

 

Kai spits into the sink, dark eyes shaded by a messy mop of black hair staring into the mirror, small strands shaded blue, remnants of an old dye job.

 

There’s rejection in his reflection, laughing at him. Los Angeles called for him, he came, and now he is just a dead man walking.

 

His joints are screaming, protesting the strain he puts his body through every day in his work. He wanted to dance, but West Coast stabbed him in the back, and there went that dream.

 

In here, nobody can get big. There’s too much competition, a tan skinned little Korean guy has no hopes of living his dream.

 

His skin lingers of cigarettes and gas he pours in his ratty car, leather upholstery smelling of peppermint and smoke. 

 

Kai grabs a Marlboro and lights it up, not bothering to open the windows as he slumps onto his armchair, blowing rings into the humid air. Their air conditioner is broken, has been for a while, only barely taking some heat and moisture out of the air. 

 

The teenager in the room is sleeping, bleached hair a halo on the bed, pale skin wrapped in cheap sheets, twisted around dehydration and malnourished muscles. He is the sole reason Kai is still breathing and even trying to uphold his job as a mechanic assistant.

 

Sehun is an angel amidst misery and riots, painfully naive and positive, just waiting to be tainted.

 

The tan man's dark eyes stare at the other intensely, waste oil under his nails, grime permanently settled into the lines of his skin, holding the cig with two swollen fingers.

 

At some point, Sehun’s eyes open.

 

_ You came,  _ his eyes say, the corner of his mouth twitching. It’s two hours after midnight, darkness everywhere, screaming and occasional fights breaking out on the streets under them.

 

Kai gives a half-hearted smile, chuckling lowly.

 

Sehun’s long and graceful limbs detangle themselves from the sheets, getting up on two feet. He used to be beautiful, turning heads with his posture and lazy steps along the streets of L.A, worn clothes looking new on his delicate form.

 

There’s not a lot left of him, the beauty somewhere else. Kai doesn’t know why he tortures himself like this, stays and clings onto someone so frail and unsure.

 

The steps the younger takes are unstable, but the small apartment is an advantage, his knees thumping against the floor in front of the armchair, tentative hands splayed on the dirty jeans Kai hasn’t bothered taking off.

 

Sehun’s no burning heart, just a shooting star that Kai is desperately trying to catch, the painful twinge of desperation slicing through his heart, when a sunken cheek is pressed against the slight bulge at the front of his jeans.

 

Smoke fills his lungs, nicotine searing his veins, slow movements of the younger tipping him towards the edge of the cliff. Sehun is beautiful and strong when on his knees, when there’s no movement, no sounds.

 

A part of his brain tells him that Sehun is just a hallucination, a vision, but his wings are fucking literal and it’s tearing him apart how he means so much to him yet there’s nothing that will save them from breaking down.

 

Sehun is desperate, but he never hurries. A little bit of black grime transfers onto his cheek from the dirty fabric, thin fingers popping open the button, zipper pulled down.

 

Dark eyes look down, smoke pushing through his nostrils, over a half of the cigar still left, burning slowly. As he inhales, his calloused thumb catches on the stubble on his chin, two days of growth, patchy and unattractive.

 

The fingers pull down the waistband of his underwear, a small mouth sucking the crown of his cock into a warm suction, slow and unhurried.

 

Kai has run through the dark, sold his soul and crawled his way through burning hell for the unspoken male, just for moments like this.

 

Sehun isn’t staring at a wall in misery, scarred wrists itching for more, but on his knees for Kai, eyes locked on him, coming back down from his own world.

 

He is dying young and growing cold, but right now he is pulsing with life, wetness so warm around throbbing flesh, painfully hard.

 

Right now, Kai’s reflection isn’t laughing at him, his dreams aren’t cold and distant, there’s only Sehun on his knees, bobbing his head slowly, the bleached mop of hair shining at the lights of the traffic, the taste heavy on his tongue.

 

He can live just a little bit more, hold his breath in and take more, end as he begins to live, wash himself with salt water, wounds stinging. He will stay alive, he will not change.

 

Just a little bit more, just a few more, just sixty seconds of his dreams, if he would have that, he would bring himself down happy, disappear. But Sehun is there, and it means something.

 

Sehun’s fingers are tugging down the clothes, pushing up his shirt, cornering the tan male. He cannot go, he cannot leave.

 

He pulls off the reddened flesh to pull off his shirt, the only piece of clothing he wears to bed, lewd sounds returning as he desperately tries to get him back in his mouth. 

 

Kai cradles his dirty fingers through the mess atop Sehun’s head, encouraging him to choke on it, make it sloppy and filthy and let it have a contrast between them. He doesn’t want to be the only tainted soul in the room.

 

Kai is filthy and dark, Sehun light and pure, voiceless whimpers and restless shifting, beautiful smiles lingering somewhere. He wants Sehun as a crying mess, eyeliner smeared down, saliva coating his chin, dripping down filthily.

 

But at night, moments like these, they’re blurred and gray. They keep swirling in dark waters until the two separate worlds meet in the fight of Armageddon, ready to destroy each other in the deadly dance.

 

If Sehun had a voice, it’d resonate through Kai’s body, spill into the air, penetrate the paper thin walls and cause noise complaints that’d make them both laugh, spur them to do it harder, faster, again, make him scream and whine the other’s name.

 

He doesn’t have one, so Kai settles on making Sehun’s face twist with as many expressions as there are stars, make him cry and laugh soundlessly, weep and scream with nothing coming out from the pretty lips of his.

 

Sehun’s pink mouth is wrapped tightly around the base of his cock, nose catching on the two-day stubble, a warm throat constricting around the crown deliciously, tongue working in slow, languid circles along the veins on the underside.

 

They both like taking it slow, wrapping themselves in each other, forgetting the outside and the Hollywood Sign, embracing the things left behind.

 

Today is not the day for it, Kai is getting impatient.

 

Sehun gets tossed onto the bed, sultry, painfully cute eyes staring at him from the other end, grabbing the bottle of cheap lube from the nightstand, the pop of cap too loud in the silence.

 

He steps back and lets his lover do as he pleases, Sehun’s slim fingers working himself open, expressionate face twisting in pleasure as he repeatedly jabs the digits against his sweet spot, inner thighs glistening with lube.

 

If Sehun had a voice, Kai wouldn’t be able to hold himself together. He dreams of quiet giggles and loud moans, the pitch and tone never same.

 

Sehun doesn’t need a voice to lure him in, though.

 

With a crook of his finger, Kai is climbing over and lubing up, pressing inside the tight heat, eating up the voiceless whimpers that spill from Sehun’s mouth. He might not be able to let his voice tumble from his lips, but to Kai, it doesn’t matter.

 

He presses in slowly, persistently, making way for himself inside the other, taking in all the little twitches and squirming of the younger. Kai knows he is not hurting, he would have hit him otherwise.

 

Sehun tastes like cheap hot cocoa, Kai like second class cigarettes and machine coffee, but neither of them mind as they run through the dark with each other, holding hands, chasing each other’s dreams in an endless game.

 

Kai groans as he pulls out bit by bit, cradling Sehun in his strong arms, calloused palms holding on tightly, slipping into the black roots of his bleach ruined hair. He buries his face into the pale neck and slams forward.

 

He doesn’t mind the lack of a pleasured cry, just feels at the other shudder in pleasure, holds him close and goes harder, numbing his pain in the pleasure of boning someone you care about of.

 

The creaking of the bed accompanies them, with the occasional thud of it hitting the wall, yet another reason for their neighbours to hate them. They don’t care, just go harder, the soundless gasps bare air hitting Kai’s ear, sending down a spike of shivers.

 

Sehun wraps his thin, frail legs around his lover’s waist tightly, aligns his lips and begins a desperate rutting, a chase for his climax. He comes first and he cums first, just because if Kai runs for the sky he forgets the in between.

 

The younger holds onto him with gentle hands, rocking along the thrusts. Before he lets go of his miserable, soundless life, he makes sure Kai has a little hope, has the spark to continue on with life without the burden that comes with him.

 

He hopes that he won’t have to look back, bitter, see better things better dreams and a better him, and instead see it in front of him, reachable. Some of us never change, but Sehun wishes Kai could love just a little bit more, let him love just a bit more.

 

Kai rams into him harder, hip bones carving dents into the only part of Sehun’s even remotely soft, his round ass. Sehun whines at the coarse hairs rubbing against his hardness on Kai’s pelvis, but doesn’t do anything at it.

 

The older knows how much Sehun likes the pain right before coming, so he just lets his mouth tug itself to a smirk, pressing them against his jugular, the pulse picking up as he tips and falls, crying out, curling into himself.

 

Kai doesn’t mind the sticky feeling, he only ups the pace to not let his baby suffer from the overstimulation that comes after. Sehun’s eyes are pleading, hands holding on, clenching and unclenching in an attempt to milk him dry.

 

The older groans and bends, stuttering hips pulling out to decorate the pale thighs, streaking across his reddened ass and thighs, the boy visibly shuddering. His face is asking why, amused expression playing on his lips.

 

“So I can do you again as I scrub you clean” he smirks and scoops him up.

 

Even if Kai’s dreams have grown cold, he’ll still try to warm the boy with the wordless pleas of help in his embrace.


End file.
